In Which Elle Wakes Up In Some Guys Bed And It's Not Actually That Bad
by evilsAfoot
Summary: Many a morning after has Elle prepared for the moment, but this guy's not like the others. And as Elle learns in this story, OCD neat-freak has never been this hot.


Elle wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. The blankets that cover her are heavy and overly warm for the time of year. She's naked (which is also an unusual sort of happenstance), and she feels sticky and disgusting from an almost dried night-sweat. As Elle peaks one eye open and takes in her strange surroundings vague memories filter in of the night before, of a dingy dive bar, a dark handsome stranger, and maybe one too many mojitos.

She stretches her stiff limbs with a contented sigh, then slowly flips to her other side, inadvertently tugging down the bedsheets with her movement. The outside air is only slightly thinner than that of what surrounds her underneath the blankets. To her left she finds a body. More specifically the body belonging to a man, currently face-planted into a small horde of pillows. Elle concludes this is the dark handsome stranger from before. He's dead asleep, it seems, and all that she can see of him through the mass of blanket (which he seems to be thoroughly enjoying) covering him, is a dark tuft of cow-licked hair, and a rather nice (yet hairy) forearm. Elle purses her lips thoughtfully, eyes glued to the mound flopped next to her. She decided it's time to answer the call of nature.

She finally escapes from the heat of the blankets, quietly sliding from the mattress to her feet, with a heavy breath of relief. As she scans the room for her discarded panties, she notes it's immaculately clean, to the point that it's almost creepy. She decides Dark and Handsome must have some (and by that she means a shit-ton) of OCD tendencies. Still, it's a refreshing change to the typical pigsties she's used to waking up in after empty nights trolling through bars. Despite its organization, Elle's panties are still out of sight, and therefore out of mind. She settles for the dark gray boxer-briefs lying conveniently close to her foot, slipping them on over her narrow hips, and heads to what could only be the bathroom.

Her suspicions are proved correct as she flips on a light switch, to find she is in fact standing in a little bathroom as tidy as the rest of the place. Through the reasonably sized mirror hanging above a typical cabinet-sink mix, Elle examines her nearly naked body. Several dark purple splotches spread over the creamy skin of her collar bone, left breast, and the flesh around her belly button. When she presses down on the marks with nimble fingers they sting pleasantly and she thinks Dark and Handsome did a good job, just like she can still feel a barely there ache between her legs. Her eyes flicker across the frame of her reflection where Dark and Handsome's bathroom necessities are ordered from (she snorts) tallest to shortest. She indulges in her curiosity and sniffs at a rather precarious looking bottle of cologne, it's unusual, sharp, and reminds her of her Daddy. The final conclusion is, she likes it. As she continues to investigate Dark and Handsome (invade his privacy) a yellow post-it sticking up form a counter-top catches her eye. The hand writing is tiny, neat, symmetrical even, and it leaves no doubt in who the author of the note really is.

Spare toothbrushes are under the sink, you can use my toothpaste and floss, do NOT use my Listerine.

Elle smirks. Short concise, not lacking in personality. It's funny (and cute) that Dark and Handsome assumes she follows an extensive dental routine, and assuring to know that he at least has the decency to pretend he does the same. There's also this peculiar image in her head of a sleepy, naked, post orgasm minded man standing in the bathroom scrawling out this memo for her, she has to chuckle. Elle kneels down by the sink, and cracks open the cabinet door to find that there is in fact a cup, filled to the brim, with multi-colored toothbrushes. It makes her wonder how many guests Dark and Handsome typically invites up to his loft for him to be so prepared for her.

A small frown tugs at her mouth as she closes the cabinet door, not bothering to take a brush for herself. Instead, with a spiteful glint in her eye, she reaches straight for the Listerine, that tops the Congo-line of toiletries. Her mouth feels fresher after it's rinse, and Elle flashes a smile at her reflection. She doesn't bother to put the bottle back where she found it, and after a routine face and hand washing, Elle turns back towards the bedroom.

Stepping through the door, she's pleased to see that, not only has Dark and Handsome flipped over, but he's also sitting up casually against the head board, with two sleep hooded eyes roaming over Elle's body appreciatively. Elle matches him in objectification, and rakes her eyes over what's exposed of his body. Her first thought besides the expected, yes, okay he's hot, she did not in fact drink herself blind, was; Damn. He's Hairy. From the heavy curve of his eyebrow, to the stubble coating his cheeks, to the oddly artful arrangement of chest hair arching over his collar bone. It was an atypical style according to Elle's standards, but she had to admit it was kind of cute (sexy, really). his eyes were just as dark as his body hair, and his gaze intense and penetrative (it was Elle's stubbornness that kept her from crossing her arms protectively over her exposed body). A playful smirk curved his lips, and she assumed that it was at the sight of her. She leaned against the door frame, easy, ready, a challenge radiating between them.

He breaks the silence, and his voice is a nice low rumble that sends a warmth spreading through her abdomen, "I hope you're not expecting me to wear _your_ underwear, because I'm not really into the whole cross dressing thing."

"You're no fun," she pouts, then begins a casual stroll towards his direction, "Besides. I never thought I'd be into the 'Wolf Man' thing. And here I am."

"Hah-hah," Dark and Handsome dead pans, but his eyes never stray from Elle as she crawls towards him, teasingly slow. When she finally makes it to the bed, she wastes no time. Straddles him, and places both palms face down against his chest, his hands counter hers by her hip bones.

"Last night was fantastic," she purrs even though she can hardly remember two seconds of it. It's mostly to stroke his ego anyway. For once she can't tell if the chump's bought the bait. He just holds up that stare of his, and she realizes Dark and Handsome's hardly a chump at all. She does know, however, that when he growls, the sound ripping low in his throat, she's as wet as the ocean, and rutting her hips into his blanketed crotch.

The 'Round Two' speech is implied as their lips crash together and her hands catch onto his biceps. She thinks OCD neat-freak has never been as hot as it is now.


End file.
